Chapter 2 - The Room Beneath the Nursery
Ethan threw his shoulder against the metal door.
It did not move.
“Grace!”
“I’m here.”
Her voice sounded weak.
Too weak.
Ethan struck the door again.
Richard hurried down the corridor behind him.
“Move.”
Richard grabbed an old iron pipe leaning against the wall and wedged it beside the lock.
Margaret remained halfway up the passage.
“Stop this.”
Neither man answered her.
Richard pulled.
Metal shrieked.
The old frame cracked.
Ethan kicked beside the latch.
The door flew inward.
Cold air hit him.
Then he saw Grace.
She sat on the edge of a narrow bed beneath a single hanging light.
Her gray maternity gown hung loosely around her enormous belly.
Her hair was tangled.
Her lips were dry.
One hand rested protectively over their unborn child.
The other was wrapped in a strip of torn sheet stained dark brown.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Grace stared at Ethan like she could not trust what her eyes were telling her.
Then she stood.
“Ethan?”
He crossed the room in three steps.
She collapsed against him.
He caught her.
Every question disappeared.
Every accusation.
Every piece of rage.
He held his wife while she shook against his chest.
“I thought you weren't coming,” she whispered.
“I’m here.”
“She said you didn't want me.”
“I’m here.”
“She said you knew.”
“No.”
Grace pulled back.
Her eyes searched his.
“She showed me messages.”
“What messages?”
“From you.”
“I never sent anything.”
“I know that now.”
Her face crumpled.
Ethan cupped the back of her head.
“Grace, listen to me. I never left you. I never told anyone to keep you here. I never stopped loving you.”
Her eyes closed.
A sob escaped her.
Behind Ethan, Richard entered the room.
He stopped when he saw his daughter-in-law.
“Grace.”
She flinched.
Richard raised both hands.
“It’s me.”
Grace looked past him.
Toward the doorway.
“Where is she?”
Ethan turned.
Margaret was gone.
He looked at Richard.
“Stay with Grace.”
“Ethan—”
“Call an ambulance.”
Grace grabbed Ethan's sleeve.
“No.”
He looked down.
“Don't leave me.”
He stayed.
Of course he stayed.
Richard called emergency services.
Ethan knelt in front of Grace.
“How long?”
She swallowed.
“Three days.”
His stomach twisted.
“Three days down here?”
She nodded.
“She told me you were extending your trip.”
“No.”
“She said you didn't want to come home.”
“No.”
“She brought food once a day.”
Ethan's jaw tightened.
“And water?”
“A bottle.”
“Bathroom?”
Grace pointed toward a narrow door in the corner.
A small utility sink and toilet.
The room had once been used by estate staff decades ago.
It had been altered.
Prepared.
Ethan looked around carefully.
Fresh lock.
Recent mattress.
Plastic water bottles.
A battery lantern.
This had not been improvised during an argument.
Someone had planned it.
“How did she get you here?”
Grace's hand tightened around his.
“She said there was a problem in the nursery wall.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
Of course.
Grace had been worried about an electrical smell weeks earlier.
Margaret knew that.
“She said a contractor wanted me to see something before they closed the panel. I followed her.”
“And then?”
Grace looked toward the floor.
“She shut the door.”
Richard turned pale.
“Margaret did?”
Grace nodded.
“At first I thought it was a mistake. I called for her. Then she came back.”
“What did she say?” Ethan asked.
“That you had called.”
Ethan felt sick.
Grace continued.
“She said you wanted some time away from me.”
“No.”
“She showed me screenshots.”
“What did they say?”
Grace's eyes filled again.
“That you weren't sure the baby was yours.”
Richard whispered, “Jesus.”
Ethan stared at her.
“I never—”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because she made one mistake.”
Grace looked toward him.
“You always call him Peanut.”
Ethan blinked.
Their unborn son's legal name would be Noah.
But since the first ultrasound, Ethan had called him Peanut.
Every text.
Every note.
Every stupid little message.
How are you and Peanut?
Tell Peanut his father says goodnight.
The fake message apparently used Noah.
Grace had noticed.
Hope had survived because of one stupid nickname.
“I kept asking for my phone,” Grace continued. “She said you'd had my service disconnected.”
“Your phone is missing.”
“She took it.”
“Did anyone else come down?”
Grace hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
Ethan looked at her.
“A man.”
Richard stiffened.
“What man?”
“I never saw his face clearly. He came late last night. Margaret stood outside. They argued.”
“About what?”
“Me.”
Ethan's hands became cold.
Grace lowered her voice.
“He said this had gone too far.”
Richard stepped closer.
“Did you recognize his voice?”
“No.”
“What else?”
“He said, ‘You promised nobody would get hurt.’”
Ethan looked toward his father.
Richard looked equally horrified.
Grace continued.
“Your mother told him it would be over before you came home.”
Silence.
Ethan's eyes shifted to the door.
Before you came home.
“What did that mean?”
“I don't know.”
Grace's breathing changed.
Her hand moved suddenly to her stomach.
Ethan leaned forward.
“What?”
She inhaled sharply.
“Nothing.”
“Grace.”
“Pressure.”
“How long?”
“It started this morning.”
Richard spoke into the phone again, giving new information to emergency dispatch.
Ethan touched Grace's belly.
“Contractions?”
“Maybe.”
“How close?”
“I haven't timed them.”
Another wave hit.
Grace squeezed his hand.
Hard.
Ethan's fear changed shape.
He stopped being the son confronting his mother.
He became a husband whose wife needed help.
“Look at me.”
Grace did.
“Ambulance is coming. You're going to be okay. Peanut is going to be okay.”
She gave a tiny, exhausted laugh through her tears.
“There.”
“What?”
“That.”
“The nickname?”
She nodded.
“I knew she was lying.”
Ethan kissed her forehead.
Sirens sounded faintly somewhere outside the estate.
Richard went upstairs to guide the paramedics.
Ethan stayed kneeling beside Grace.
Her gaze moved to his hand.
“You found the ring.”
He opened his palm.
“Yes.”
She stared at it.
“I didn't leave it.”
“I know.”
“She took it.”
“How?”
Grace looked at the bandage around her hand.
“When I fought her.”
The dried blood inside the ring made sense.
Ethan's throat tightened.
“She pulled it off?”
Grace nodded.
“I didn't understand why.”
“I do.”
She looked at him.
“She wanted me to believe you abandoned me.”
“And she wanted you to believe I abandoned you.”
Two lies moving in opposite directions.
A wall built from both sides.
The paramedics arrived minutes later.
They entered the hidden room with equipment, checked Grace's blood pressure, pulse, hydration and fetal heart rate.
One paramedic's face tightened.
“We need to move.”
Ethan's stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Her blood pressure is elevated. The baby's heart rate is okay right now, but we need her evaluated immediately.”
Grace gripped Ethan's hand.
He walked beside the stretcher as they carried her upstairs.
When they emerged through the nursery, Grace saw the crib.
She turned her face away.
Ethan noticed.
“Don't look at it.”
She nodded.
Richard followed.
Margaret was nowhere in sight.
“Where's Mom?” Ethan asked.
Richard stopped.
“I thought she was here.”
Ethan looked toward the hallway.
Empty.
“Dad.”
“I didn't see her leave.”
Ethan took out his phone and called estate security.
No answer.
He called again.
Nothing.
Grace was moved toward the front entrance.
Ethan followed until Richard caught his arm.
“Go with her.”
“What about Mom?”
“I'll handle it.”
Ethan stared at him.
For years, Richard had avoided conflict with Margaret.
Not tonight.
“Call the police.”
Richard nodded.
“I will.”
Ethan climbed into the ambulance with Grace.
As the doors closed, she whispered, “There's something else.”
He leaned closer.
“What?”
“The man who came downstairs.”
“Yes?”
“I remembered something he said.”
“What?”
“He called your mother Margaret.”
Ethan waited.
Grace's eyes filled with fear.
“Then she called him Daniel.”
Ethan froze.
He knew only one Daniel connected to the Mercer family.
Daniel Cross.
The family's private attorney.
A man who had handled Ethan's inheritance.
A man who knew every trust, property, account and signature attached to the Mercer name.
A man who had vanished from public life six months earlier after supposedly suffering a stroke.
Ethan pulled out his phone.
Before he could call anyone, a message appeared.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
He opened it.
One photograph loaded.
Margaret stood beside a black sedan at the estate's rear gate.
Daniel Cross stood next to her.
May you like
And beneath the photograph were seven words.
YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHO YOUR FATHER IS.
